The Other Side
by Psamathe
Summary: There is always someone left behind - Nina's story. M rated for possible dubious consent.
1. Chapter 1

Nina lay quietly in her lover's arms listening to the sea whispering through the open windows. It was a beautiful evening, the sunset splitting the sky with shades of red, pink and orange that seemed far removed from the pedestrian colours of an English summer. The glowing shadows played across the room, the bed … his face. His golden hair was thinning now.

She sighed. A soft sound. Not regretful, not exactly. There shouldn't be any regrets, not now.

'What's wrong?' he asked his voice heavy with sleep and sex.

'Nothing,' she said.

'You sure?'

'I'm sure.'

The silence that followed weighed on her mind and eventually Nina felt compelled to voice her fears.

'Do you think we're too old for this?' she asked.

'Sex? I hope not.'

'Starting again.'

He looked down at her, kissing her softly as his fingers started a slow caress.

'I'm not leaving you again, Nina.'

/\/\/\

**Three Years Earlier**

It was just coffee Nina Heston told herself as she carefully carried her mug to an empty table. She'd repeated the words so often over the past twenty four hours that she almost believed them.

But Rick wouldn't. And that was the problem. He could never see that all that existed between herself and Quinn Paterson was friendship. Nina believed herself to be a woman who stood by her decisions. She'd married Rick. What other proof of her fidelity did he need? They'd left it late but they now had two beautiful children and enough money to be comfortable. They were happy … or so she had believed.

Nina poured sweetener into her coffee, wondering exactly where it had all started to go wrong and when she had started to notice. It had been little things, she supposed. Staying late at the office. Business trips North. Drinking. The odd joint. Rick would never admit that he had a problem but it seemed of late that every evening involved a bottle of wine and marijuana. Nina had rationalised it all, figuring that he had a stressful job and needed to relax. He kept the drugs away from the kids. What was the harm?

But there had been the night when he'd staggered in through the door reeking of beer and perfume. He'd sworn to her that nothing had happened, that it had been a stag night for one of the guys at the office. Rick had brought flowers and chocolates as an apology but somehow that wasn't enough. Nina had taken a good look at herself. There were so many women out there younger and prettier than she was. Would she really be surprised if Rick was playing away? There and then, she decided that she needed to make more of an effort with her appearance, had been to the hairdressers and bought herself a new dress. Rick hadn't noticed.

So here she was, waiting in Starbucks for her ex-boyfriend, hoping that she wasn't about to cry on his shoulder.

'Nina?'

She looked up and smiled. Tall, slightly gangly, his hands shoved into his back pockets; there was still something of the awkward schoolboy about him.

'I barely recognised you,' Quinn said as he took the seat opposite.

'It's the hair,' Nina replied, touching her shorn locks a little self consciously. She'd asked for Hale Berry but ended up looking, in her opinion, a bit like a ball bearing.

'Yeah, must be.'

'Is it really that bad?'

'No … no, you just… er … you look different, that's all.'

She could see the concern in his eyes, confirming that fact that she looked as crappy as she felt. He sipped at his coffee. Black no sugar. Nine found herself fiddling with her wedding ring suddenly embarrassed by its presence on her finger.

'So?' he began.

'How have you been?' Nina said.

'Good, You?'

'Good.'

He was lying; she could tell by the way he stared past her left ear. This was so strange. To know someone so well and yet … The distance between them felt almost physical. Nina tried to remember the last time she had been alone with him. It had probably been that horrible day when they'd broken up. And yet here he was. Here for her, just as he'd promised all those years ago.

'It's Rick,' she admitted.

'Rick?'

'I think … I think he's sleeping with someone else. Or he wants to sleep with someone else. I don't know, I don't…'

Quinn touched her hand, stilling her panic.

'Tell me,' he said.

It all came out then. Everything. Nina talked until her throat ached; the emotions tumbling from her lips as she raged against her husband. Quinn just let his coffee go cold as he listened to her.

'Nina, he loves you. Sometimes I wish he didn't but it's the truth.'

'I know but …'

'What?'

'Is it enough?'

'Love? It's worth fighting for, isn't it?' Quinn said. 'I mean, what you and Rick have. The house, the kids, you're happy, aren't you?'

She couldn't explain. Not really. From the outside they were the perfect couple. But happy? She wasn't sure what that meant anymore.

'He'd be mad to sleep with someone else,' Quinn said but Nina couldn't bring herself to believe it.

'Would he?'

'Yes.'

He reached out, brushing a tendril of hair from her face.

'Quinn … don't,' Nina said, even though she wasn't sure that she wanted him to stop.

He let his hand drop.

'Where did it all go wrong?' he asked. 'For us, I mean.'

They'd never talked about it. Ever. Nina poured more sweetener into her coffee.

'We were children. Quinn. It couldn't last,' she said. 'You went away to Uni. I was here. Rick was here…'

He nodded. There was little else she could say.

Nina remembered how alone and alienated she'd felt. At first she had visited him every weekend but it soon became clear that he'd moved into a different world. He'd tried his best to include her but every time Nina had met his friends she'd just felt so stupid. They'd talked about things she didn't understand, places that she could never hope to visit. Quinn hadn't meant to push her away. It had been a natural progression.

He finished his coffee quickly and stood up.

'Take care of yourself, Nina,' he said as his lips brushed her cheek.

She leaned into his kiss, remembering the softness, the tender passion. Quinn had been her first. At the time her girlish dreams had been filled with true love, romance … happily ever after. But this wasn't a fairytale. She had to go home.

/\/\/\

Such a waste.

Woody didn't seem to be taking much of anything in. He sat on the sofa, staring into the sea of black clothed bodies that were clustered about him.

Nina glanced around the crowded room, instinctively looking for her husband. She didn't recognise the girl that Rick was talking to. Then again, most of the people here were complete strangers.

She hadn't known the deceased very well. They'd met on a couple of occasions but Nina couldn't recall having an actual conversation with the girl. And she had been a girl. At least that had been the impression that Nina had formed. Ten years younger than Woody; happy, bright, beautiful and then one day …

'Doesn't make much sense, does it?'

Nina took the glass of Chardonnay Quinn offered and took a large gulp.

'Do you think Woody will be OK?' she said.

'Me and Bax are going to stay with him tonight.'

'And after that?'

Quinn didn't reply. His silence blended with hers as they listened to the low murmur of stilted conversation in the room. No one seemed to have much to say … apart from Rick. A sudden giggle from his companion struck a harsh, bitter note. He leaned closer, whispering in the girl's ear, making her laugh again. Nina took another gulp of her wine, feeling herself fade into the background as Rick handed the girl his phone and she tapped in a number.

'Maybe you should take him home?' Quinn suggested.

He had a point. Nina handed Quinn her glass, his hand brushed briefly against hers; a subtle touch but a potent one.

Rick drove home. He didn't seem that drunk but his alcohol fuelled aggression was more difficult to hide. Nina shut her eyes and let him think that she was sleeping, not wanting to watch as he ran red lights and tailgated other drivers. Even so, she could feel that he was driving far too fast. Nina wondered whether his behaviour was entirely alcohol related. He was probably annoyed because she had interrupted his flirtation. In public it was a big joke. She always smiled and laughed when people suggested that Rick was a little too fond of the ladies. In private, despite Quinn's assurances, her self esteem was slowly eroding away. She didn't know what Rick wanted from her anymore. It certainly wasn't sex. Their lovemaking was a metronome. Predictable. After eighteen years together, could she honestly expect anything else? Familiarity had bred contempt.

He was still pissed off when they got home.

Nina hurried into the house ahead of him wanting to hustle the babysitter out of the way as fast as possible so she wouldn't have to explain her husband's behaviour. Hilda Braithwaite was seventy five, deaf as a post with two dodgy hips but she could still spread gossip at lightening speed. Nina could tell her radar was on full alert as Rick stalked past them both without a word and slammed the kitchen door.

'Everything all right Mrs. Heston?'

'Fine. Tough day that's all.'

'I can stay a bit longer if you need me to.'

'No, no, I'm sure you have better things to do.'

'It's no problem.'

'Thanks again.'

Nina pushed an extra fiver into her hand and waved her out of the door. She took a deep breath and glanced upwards hoping that the kids were safely asleep. The soft glow of the nightlight trickled down the stairs but there was none of the telltale thumps and giggling.

Figuring that she'd look in on them later, Nina pushed open the kitchen door. Rick was standing in the middle of the room his attention fixed on the wine rack. Nina approached him carefully, slipping tentative arms about his waist. He immediately extracted himself from her embrace. Perhaps the funeral had upset him more than she'd realised?

'I hope Woody's going to be OK,' she said as she watched him uncork a bottle of red and pour himself a large glass. 'Quinn said that…'

'I don't want you talking to him.'

'Excuse me?'

'You 'eard.'

He drained the glass and poured himself another.

'How much have you had to drink?'

She found herself shoved up against the breakfast bar. His body hard against hers.

'None of your fucking business.'

'Rick?'

'You've been seeing him.'

He was pushing her skirt up around her hips.

'No I just…'

Ripping through her tights, delving into her knickers.

'Wait …'

'You're mine,' he hissed. 'Quinn can keep his fucking hands off.'

Rick pulled at her thighs, spreading them wide. Somehow Nina managed to hook one of her legs over his hips, trying to make this easier.

'The kids …'

But he was past listening so she let him fuck her. Fast and hard. And silent. The edge of the unit dug into her back, bruising her… if he would just lift her up… But he was too far gone. Nina couldn't look at him. She buried her face in his neck, stifling her cries in fear that their children would hear. When he was done he pulled away suddenly, leaving her bereft and empty.

'Rick, please …'

Ignoring her, Rick picked up the bottle and stalked out of the room. Nina sat down on the hard kitchen chair not sure what had just happened. She wanted to clean herself up but she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs; the sound of the bathroom door slamming and locking. Rick had spent the afternoon chatting up a bimbo in a black dress that barely covered her bum and yet he was berating her for sharing a few words with an old friend. History. That was the problem. And it was one that she knew from bitter experience that she would have to let Rick work through by himself. He'd be all smiles come the morning and they'd both pretend that this had never happened.

Nina waited for as long as she dared. When she finally crept up the stairs, she did so with a certain amount of trepidation, not knowing what kind of reception she'd receive. She hoped that he'd gone to bed but the bathroom door was still shut.

'Rick?'

She knocked softly.

'Are you okay?'

All she could hear was the sound of his harsh, laboured breathing.

'Rick?'

The door was secured by a bolt. Nothing fancy. Rick had fitted it himself so Nina figured she had a fair chance of being able to break in. She shoved against the door, again and again until her shoulder bruised and the screws holding the bolt in place gave.

Rick was sprawled on the floor; his lips stained red wine dark. She could smell it everywhere; the sick, vinegar stench filling the room.

'Shit … Rick… Rick!'

She shook him.

'Mummy what's wrong with Daddy?'

Six year old Michaela was standing behind her, five year old Rickie's hand clutched in hers.

'Get back to bed, take your brother, ' Nina said, a little more harshly than she meant to. Rick shivered and started to heave.

'Now Michaela!'

Michaela's face crumpled as the tears dribbled down her fat cheeks but Nina didn't have time to offer any comfort, not when her husband was comatose and in danger of choking on his own vomit. She shut the bathroom door in her daughter's face. This wasn't something that her children should ever see.

Nina hauled Rick over onto his side as the liquid started to dribble from his mouth. She let him throw up, covering her and a good portion of the floor in vomit. When he finally stilled she let go and he fell on his back.

'Rick, Rick … look at me!'

She slapped his face. Lightly at first but when he showed no sign of returning to consciousness she let fly, smacking him as hard as she could. Anger, frustration, hurt, everything came out in that one punch. It was enough. Rick opened his eyes and reached out to take her hand.

'Nina?'

'Come on. Get up.'

He started to cry. Sobbing into the bathroom tiles.

'Don't leave me.'

'I'm not going to leave you.'

'I love you Nina.'

'Yes Rick, I know.'

Somehow Nina managed to get him to his feet, supporting him as he staggered across the hall to their bedroom and onto the bed.

'Stay,' he slurred trying to pull her down next to him. This time, however, she had enough strength to force herself away. She shut the bedroom door and took a deep breath before going to check on her children.

Michaela had followed instructions, up to a point. She and Rickie were in the same bed along with half of the toy cupboard. Nina didn't have the heart to make them tidy up.

'Is Daddy going to be OK?' Rickie asked, wide eyed as he fought the fear that was keeping him awake.

'Yes, love. He'll be fine,' Nina said.

'Is he going to die like my hamster?'

'No… no of course not.'

She soothed her children, dropping a kiss on Michaela's forehead, stroking Rickie's hair. When they eventually slept it was with frowns and tear-stained faces.

Nina made herself a bed on the sofa. Despite her earlier concerns, she couldn't face sharing a bed with her husband. She lay there for what felt like hours, trying to make sense of everything that had happened until the buzz of Rick's phone attracted her attention. It was lying on the coffee table aglow with the promise of a new text message. Nina couldn't help herself. She read it.

'SEE YOU MONDAY xxx'

Mandie? She didn't think that he worked with anyone called Mandie. With shaking hands, Nina scrolled through the rest of his address book …

Jenny, Judy, Linda, Mary, Paula … There seemed to be a very high proportion of women in his address book. She looked at the clock. Past midnight. Nina fumbled with her own phone as she struggled to key in the number.

'Please be there, please be there,' Nina breathed.

'Quinn Paterson.' the voice at the other end answered.

/\/\/\

Nina sucked on the cigarette, enjoying the irony as she recalled the way she nagged Rick about his occasional smoking. He hadn't noticed that she had started again. She'd been careful about it … but not that careful.

'Nina!'

She looked up acknowledging Quinn's wave with one of her own. The pale blue shirt he was wearing clashed slightly with his brown jacket. And they both seemed at odds with the scruffy trainers on his feet.

He gave her the obligatory kiss on the cheek.

'I thought you weren't getting here until tomorrow?' he said.

It was true that she was a day early. A day more desperate.

'Change of plan, Rick volunteered to baby sit,' she smiled as she crushed the light from the cigarette. Quinn frowned.

'He knows you're here though?'

'Could … could you buy me a drink?' she asked.

'Yeah… yeah. Come on.'

Nina felt his hand on her back as he guided her across the busy road and towards the nearest pub, his unwitting fingers finding a bruise. She bit her lip to stop the hiss of pain. There were some things that Quinn, as sweet as he was, didn't need to know about his friend. Like the fact that every time Rick got drunk he seemed to think that it was his God given right to fuck her and he wasn't careful when he did it. Nina never told him to stop but sometimes she wondered if she should. Would it make a difference? If he wasn't shagging her would he just go and find someone else? She couldn't shake the paranoia. It seemed to infuse everything she said or did. Talking to Rick didn't help. He said it was because he loved her but Nina was tired of it all. The excuses, the kids … being married.

Quinn's hand rested briefly on her hip before he went to the bar. It was nice. He may not have realised it but he was drawing a certain amount of female attention. He didn't seem to notice the group of girls giggling in one corner or the striking thirty-something that moved to stand just that little bit too close. Nina could see it though and for some unaccountable reason she felt jealous. So much so that when he brought her glass drink over, she drank it straight down.

'I think we might need more wine,' she joked.

'What's Rick done this time?'

'How long have you got?'

'I'll get a bottle.'

But they didn't talk about Rick. Nina didn't want to. Instead she encouraged Quinn to discuss his work, his students. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a proper adult conversation. As she listened, she drank. Some part of her wanted to achieve the kind of oblivion that Rick seemed to crave. The warm summer night made it easy to sip one glass of rosé after another. Watching him talk and laugh she realised that he didn't smile nearly enough. Not anymore. He used to. When they'd been together he'd smiled all of the time.

Pondering the problem, Nina tried to prop her head up on her hand and missed.

'Nina … Nina … 'Cmon.'

She looked down at her glass. It was empty again. How had that happened?

'Let's get you out of here.'

Nina let Quinn help her to her feet. She clutched onto him as they walked out in the cool evening air. The alcohol had hit her hard and fast, she realised, but she struggled to understand why.

'Have you eaten?'

She shook her head. Nina honestly couldn't recall the last time she'd had a proper meal. Breakfast maybe? No. Tea, the night before? There had been a sandwich as some point. Somehow the normal patterns of life had been disrupted by worry, by paranoia. Nina stopped walking.

'I can't … I can't do this anymore.'

It was the alcohol talking, shouting at the world. Quinn tried to shield her from the curious looks and the stares of the passers by.

'Look, I'm going to take you home,' he said.

But that was the last thing she wanted. She clutched onto him, dragging the material of his shirt into her fists.

'No… No you can't. Rick will see.'

'Okay… okay. It's alright.'

His arms were about her, warm, solid.

'We'll go back to my place, yeah?'

'Yeah.'

He kept his arm about her as they walked. Nina let him, safe in the knowledge that no one here could possibly know who she was. They looked like any other couple out for an evening stroll. Nina's one regret was that Quinn didn't live further away.

It was a big house. A family home, but Nina knew that Quinn didn't have much in the way of a family anymore. She'd been here before. Once. Before she and Rick had had the kids. She couldn't remember the exact details, only that his wife hadn't made them feel welcome. They'd never visited again.

'I'll make some coffee.'

There were photos of his children on the walls but none of his wife… ex-wife. A wide screen television dominated the room along with shelves crammed with books, all with impressive sounding titles. Nina couldn't remember the last time she'd had the time to read an actual book. She used to like reading. English literature had been the only A-level she'd passed. She picked a book at random and started to flick through it.

'You can borrow that if you like.'

He was standing in the doorway, a tray complete with cups and cafetière clutched in his hands. Nina put the book back sat on the leather sofa, feeling out of place. There would be no point in taking it home. Rickie would probably try and eat it. Quinn set the coffee down on the low table. Somewhere in the distance, Nina heard a ping.

'Haven't got much in,' he apologised when returned with microwaved chips and pizza.

'It's fine. Thank you.'

They attacked the meal together. Nina actually found herself laughing as they fought over the last slice and found themselves separated by strings of cheese. Quinn let her have it. Nina couldn't honestly remember the last time anything had tasted so good. Her enthusiasm must have been obvious as Quinn said,

'You've got ketchup on…'

'What?'

He touched her tenderly, wiping the sauce from her chin. And she cried. Finally. She wept until her body was capable of doing nothing more than giving into exhaustion. When she woke she realised that Quinn was still there, holding onto her. She caught a glimpse of sunlight and blue sky through the curtains and realised that he'd been with her all night. Nina raised her head from his shoulder. Somehow it felt perfectly natural to reach out and stroke his stubbled cheek. Nina knew that her judgement was blurred but she didn't move away when Quinn dipped his head towards hers.

The kiss was tender. Sweet. Nina was still a little drunk but somehow it didn't matter. The fumbling was familiar, awkward and comforting in its way. Maturity hadn't granted them finesse. Passion flared. She heard something rip and realised that Quinn was urgently trying to reacquaint himself with the contents of her bra. Nina couldn't remember the last time Rick had touched her breasts. She wanted this, wanted Quinn, wanted to feel loved and beautiful again. It had been so long. She knew he would be gentle. He'd take care of her as he always had.

And then he wasn't kissing her anymore.

'Nina … wait… no … we can't.'

'Please…'

'Rick's a mate,' Quinn said as if that was the only explanation he needed to give.

Her shame was burning into blazing anger. She shoved him away.

'It didn't stop him, did it? What do you think we were doing while you were at uni?'

Deliberately cruel but then again the truth often was.

'You should go home, Nina.'

She looked down at her shirt, the missing buttons gaping. Mocking her. She pulled her shirt closed.

'I'll get you something to wear,' he said.

Nina followed him up the stairs, into the bedroom that nobody shared. The king-sized bed was neatly made. The choice of sheets was a testament to the fact that his wife must have left them behind.

He opened his wardrobe revealing a row of shirts poorly ironed but neatly hung up. How many blue shirts did the man own? A random memory; she'd once told him that blue was her favourite colour. He picked one and handed it to her before leaving the room to let her change. She sickened herself, not really understanding why she had done this. Were rumour and suspicion really enough to risk her marriage for? Or had she been trying to give Rick an excuse to leave?

She found Quinn waiting outside in the hallway, car keys in hand ready to drive her to the station. It was a silent journey. Nina only spoke when she finally had to say goodbye.

'Promise … promise me you won't tell Rick about this?'

'I promise,' he said, not looking at her.

She hesitated.

'Goodbye Nina.'

He didn't kiss her, didn't touch her. At that point Nina knew that she couldn't see him again, not if there was to be a chance of saving her marriage. Rick had been right all along. Somewhere, deep down, she would always love Quinn.

She slept again on the train, not really caring if she missed her stop but for once the announcements were clear and loud enough to penetrate her dreams. There was even a taxi waiting outside the station. The driver was overly cheerful, insisting on talking to her despite Nina's disinterest in everything he said.

And then, before she was really ready, Nina found herself at home.

Next door's curtains twitched as she pushed open the gate and walked up the path. Mrs Braithwaite was up early. She crept into to house wondering what excuse she could give for her early return, but that turned out to be the least of her worries. A thin blue haze of smoke filled the hallway along with the sharp scent of burnt bread.

Her children were sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by packets and jars. Cocoa Pops littered the floor, liberally sprinkled with milk and blobs of Nutella. There was no sign of Rick.

'Mummy!'

They ran to her, squeezing her tight. She kissed them both.

'Where is Daddy?' Nina asked.

'Shh …Daddy's asleep,' Michaela whispered. 'He wouldn't wake up so we made breakfast all by ourselves.'

'I made toast' Rickie said, sounding proud of himself.

And he'd almost burnt the house down.

There had been a time when she would have ignored this and just let Rick sleep it off. But she couldn't. Not now. She left the children, the mess and went upstairs to rip the duvet away from Rick. Dragging it from him was easy. Pushing him off of the bed was probably a little extreme. Rick didn't seem so notice that he was on the floor. He yawned, belched and looked up at her with eyes that couldn't quite focus.

'That's a nice shirt, darling' he said. 'Is it new?'


	2. Chapter 2

It was beautiful here, Nina decided, postcard perfect. Everything looked like a picture taken in the highest definition. Hot sun shone in the sharp blue sky. The sand crumbled beneath their toes as they walked along the empty beach hand in hand.

The winters were cold, or so she'd been told, but Nina didn't want to think about that. She wouldn't be here when the seasons changed and didn't want to believe that anything could mar this moment of perfection. She felt his warmth as he wound his arms about her. He was at home here. His body was easy, the way it had never been back in England.

'I don't want to go,' Nina said, turning herself in his embrace. She let her head fall onto his chest, the material of his blue shirt rough beneath her cheek. She looked up at him wondering if she really had the right to ask him to leave. His life was here. He was happy.

'We won't be apart for long,' he said. 'Just a couple of weeks, until I can tie things up here.'

Nina wanted to ask him if he was sure but was scared to hear the answer. She felt his hand gently cup her cheek and tilt her face towards his.

'Don't worry, love. We'll make it right this time.'

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

/\/\/\/\

**Two Years Earlier**

Nina counted the pennies in her purse, mentally calculating whether she had enough money left to buy her children dessert. She had promised them ice cream when she'd dropped them off at school; sometimes bribery was the only way she could get them to leave the house in the morning. The answer came up short so she put the Carte D'or back in the freezer and picked up the Smart Price version instead. They'd never know the difference.

Christmas wasn't far away and Nina didn't even want to think about the presents that she couldn't afford to buy. Asda had suddenly exploded with tinsel. Toys, games and DVDs leapt out of the television at every advert break complete with the exited shrieks of her children,

'We want that!'

'Only if Santa thinks you've been good.'

'We are good. Mummy. We are. We are!'

The one thing they really needed she couldn't provide. Michaela never mentioned her father. Rickie talked about him all of the time. Nina didn't know which was worse

Three months and she was too tired to hate him anymore. She no longer wanted to know what had happened in Majorca, or the reason why he had cleaned out their bank account and buggared off. All she cared about was getting through another day … and cursing her own stupidity. There were a hundred and one things she could have done to make this easier. Going back to work after having the kids would have been a start. She would have had some money of her own rather than having to negotiate her way through the maze of benefit application forms.

She had job interviews lined up but wasn't particularly hopeful. It had been six years since she'd worked full time and even then she hadn't made enough to pay a mortgage. Her qualifications seemed pitiful in the face of a new wave of school leavers all with multiple A-Levels. Nina was completely aware that, even if she did get a job, there would still be childcare fees to find.

One day at a time, she repeated to herself as she started on the walk back home. It wasn't that far. Not really. Nina swapped her bag from right to left, redistributing her load as the plastic dug into her fingers. Ten minutes walk if she was feeling energetic and taking the car was just a waste of petrol. Fuel costs were just one more thing to worry about. And she had a very long list.

Funny, she always used to feel nervous about walking anywhere on her own. Now she was almost at the point where she didn't care anymore. The winter morning was dull, heavy. A freezing fog hung in the air, dampening Nina's spirits and soaking her hair. Her feet took her up the hill, through the underpass, along the road past the bus station and across the council estate. There was no money in her purse, her credit cards were at their limit; she had nothing worth stealing unless you counted two litres of cheap ice cream and a box of cocoa pops. Even so, her steps hastened when she heard shouts behind her. She glanced back. A girl was screaming abuse at the young man who might have been her boyfriend. Nina didn't know exactly what was happening and she didn't stop to find out. She walked faster, her heels clicking on the frost scattered pavement.

She hated this. Hated feeling so helpless. It wasn't just the lack of money. Rick was missing from everything she did. A black hole had opened up in her life and she didn't know what to do about it. She hadn't realised how much of her life had centred on him; his friends, his job, his likes and dislikes. Nina didn't really know who she was anymore. And right now she didn't have the energy to find out.

Even when she got home the lassitude didn't leave her. She put the ice cream in the freezer and sat herself on the sofa. The bathroom was in desperate need of cleaning but she couldn't face it at that moment. Nina closed her eyes and lay back. Somewhere at the back of her mind she wondered if she should see a doctor. Surely it wasn't right to feel this tired all of the time? She would just sleep for a minute.

Two hours later and the frantic banging at the front door woke her. Nina wiped the drool from her face and went to answer it.

The girl outside was attractive, there was no doubt about that and Nina was suddenly aware of her own dishevelled condition. Her impromptu nap had left her with wrinkled clothes, hair sticking up in odd directions… and she'd forgotten to put any make up on that morning.

'Where is he then?'

Nina instinctively knew who she was looking for and stood firm as the girl tried to push her way into the house.

'Rick's not here,' Nina said.

'Fine. I'll wait.'

The girl sat down on the doorstep, hands resting on her stomach. Nina looked at her more closely. The baby bump was barely there. It was only visible because the girl was so skinny. Young too. She couldn't have been much older than twenty.

'You had sex with my husband,' she said.

It was amazing how calm she actually felt. Was she surprised? Not really.

'He said it was OK. He said he'd had a vasectomy.'

The girl was snivelling now. Her bravado had suddenly disappeared leaving a frightened child in the place of the angry young woman. Nina's heart softened every so slightly. Rick could be a charming bastard when he wanted something and he'd obviously wanted a younger woman.

'What's your name?' Nina asked.

'Lottie.'

'You'd better come in.'

Nina didn't really understand why she was allowing this girl into her home. Perhaps it was just the fact that they both had reason to hate her husband. She led Lottie through to the kitchen.

'Tea?' she offered.

'Yeah, why not?'

Busying herself with the kettle gave Nina time to think. At first she was reluctant to admit the truth. Did she really want to involve a complete stranger in her marital woes? This was beyond awkward.

'Rick's gone,' she said, handing Lottie a mug.

'Where?'

'I don't know. He left me, left the kids.'

'Kids? How many have you got?'

'Two. A boy and a girl.'

A pause.

'He didn't mention any kids.'

'No. I don't suppose he did. Sugar? '

'No … thanks.'

Lottie took a gulp of her tea.

'One of his mates did try to stop him,' she said.

'Which one?'

For some reason it was terribly important.

'Blonde hair. Kind of chubby.'

Quinn. Nina supposed she should have been grateful, but she wasn't. He'd tried but that wasn't good enough. All his talk of fighting for love and yet he'd still let this happen.

'I can't afford to have this kid by myself,' Lottie said.

But Nina couldn't spare her any sympathy.

'Then don't have it.'

'I'm Catholic. Me mum would kill me if I got rid of it.'

'Right.'

Which also explained the lack of birth control. This was a fucking mess. Lottie wiped her nose on her sleeve, sniffing loudly,

'The sex weren't even that great.'

'Oh I'm sorry. If I'd have known I'd have trained him better.'

Nina's sarcasm wasn't wasted on Lottie who smiled through her tears.

'Does he always do that thing with his pants?' she said. 'I mean, what's that all about?'

Oh God … Nina remembered now. How Rick would pretend he was one of the blokes from 'The Full Monty' because he knew she had a thing for Robert Carlisle. She couldn't help laughing at how pathetic it had been.

'I have no bloody idea,' she said and went to get Lottie another cup of tea.

/\/\/\/\

'You should have married that other one… what was his name?'

'Mum… '

'Tim? Jim…?'

'Mum.'

'Quinn… that was it. Lovely young man. So polite.'

Nina closed her eyes, wishing that Mrs. Braithwaite hadn't tripped over her cat and broken her hip. Asking her mother to baby sit had been a last resort.

'Clever too, didn't he go off to university?'

'I don't remember. Mum, I've really got to go.'

'Is that what you're wearing?'

Ignoring her mother, Nina scooped up her handbag. She didn't want to consider that Primark's version of Jennifer Aniston's latest little black dress might actually look better on a younger woman … or a size zero American actress. Nina tried not to care that she was neither of those things.

'I don't know what time I'll be back but the spare room's all made up for you.'

'Should you be going out at all? You've only just got the job and they don't pay teaching assistants that much.'

'Mum… '

'And with that woman…'

'I'm going.

'I don't know how the two of you can be such good friends.'

'Good night.'

Sometimes, Nina realised, the only way to deal with her mother was to leave the room and hope she'd stop talking of her own accord.

One night. Was that too much to ask? Nina just wanted to get out of the house and forget about her responsibilities for a few hours. It was one of the reasons she left her wedding ring behind. Her finger felt naked without it but she had to get used to the fact … Rick wasn't coming back. There was no point in pretending to be married anymore.

Did all parents take this much delight in pointing out their offspring's mistakes? Nina didn't know the answer but she swore it was something she would never do to Michaela or Rickie. Funny how her mum was suddenly so fond of Quinn? She had hated him when they'd been going out. Rick, on the other hand, had been the wonderful blue-eyed boy… the man who hadn't been responsible for corrupting her little girl; who had saved her from a life of debauchery by putting her in a white dress and taking her down the aisle.

And of course the fact that Rick had run out was now all her fault. Her mother had never said so directly but Nina could feel it. She would never believe that their marriage had been in trouble before Rick had vanished in Majorca.

'It's the sex, isn't it?'

'What?'

'They have toys for that kind of thing, you know. You don't need a man.'

'Mother!'

'Better than the real thing … or so I've been told.'

Thankfully, Nina's phone beeped and she looked down to see the text message.

'Taxi's here. I'll see you later.'

She dropped a quick kiss on her mother's cheek before picking up her keys and hurrying out of the door.

It was a relief to speak a normal adult, Nina realised as she was driven into town. The taxi driver was garrulous but she welcomed his inconsequential chatter. By the time he dropped her off outside of the pub she knew all about his wife, his kids and the dog that had broken through the fence into the neighbour's garden. For once she didn't mind.

/\/\/\/

'How about him?' Lottie gestured towards the bar.

The place was heaving and Nina couldn't even identify the man who had caught Lottie's eye. She had to shout to make herself heard over the thumping base.

'I'm not here to pick up a bloke!'

'Well they're not going to be looking at me are they?'

Lottie caressed her belly, her face breaking into a tender smile. For a

Moment, Nina almost felt jealous. Then she remembered the seventeen hours of labour she'd endured with Rickie. Never again, she sworn at the time but now she wondered. What would it be like? The she shook her head and dismissed that crazy notion. She was already forty; not the age to be starting all over again.

'So … working girl now. Are you gonna get the champers in?' Lottie said.

'I might be able to afford a Lambrini.'

Lottie made a disgusted face.

'Mine's a larger shandy.'

Nina just looked at her.

'I haven't had a bloody drink in six months thanks to your husband… And low alcohol stuff tastes like shite.'

Nina fought her way to the bar, recalling a time when she had thought such places were the ultimate in sophistication. The barman, however, seemed to be more interested in chatting up barely clothed girls rather than the twenty pound note Nina was waving in his face. It wasn't until the man standing next to her plucked at the barman's shirt sleeve that he deigned to turn round and take notice. Nina nodded her thanks.

'Ian,' the man said, introducing himself.

His accent was soft and Welsh. Nina rather liked it.

'Nina.'

She smiled at him, feeling colour rising in her cheeks as she waited for the barman to finish pouring the drinks. Ian must have been in his mid thirties. Heavy set but not fat. He had dark hair and the nicest brown eyes that Nina had ever seen.

'I'll get these,' he said, handing over his money before she could stop him.

'Actually … uh … Ian, I'm here with someone so…'

Nina gestured towards the table she had been sharing with Lottie only to see that someone else had taken her seat. And that someone currently had his tongue stuck down the girl's throat.

'Oh,' Nina said.

Ian laughed.

'My lot are over there,' he said gesturing towards a rowdy party of younger men who were currently occupying one corner of the bar. A roar went up each time a vaguely attractive woman walked past them. Obviously they were lying in wait for a stripper.

'Bill from work. It's his stag night.'

'And won't Bill from work be expecting you to join in?'

'I don't think Bill from work's going to care.'

Bill, it seemed, was too far gone to care about anything. Ian pointed to his mineral water,

'We started at lunchtime. I'm the designated driver.'

'I hope the wedding's not tomorrow,' Nina smiled.

Ian's hand brushed briefly against hers and Nina felt herself blush again. He gestured towards Lottie,

'Do you think she'd notice if you talked to me for a bit?'

/\/\/\/\

Nina couldn't remember the last time she'd been out so late. The eastern sky was silvery bright. A new day. Creeping in, hoping not to disturb her mum, Nina felt a bit like a teenager again in the first flush of … something. Ian was nice, she decided. A bit young for her but even so, she wasn't looking for anything serious. Perhaps giving him her phone number had been a bit rash but she didn't honestly expect him to call. She let herself into the house as quietly as she could, expecting her mother to be waiting in the hall. What she wasn't prepared for was the small figure huddled against the wall watching the door.

'Michaela?'

'Mummy?'

The little girl flung herself into her mother's arms.

'Gran made me go to bed but I didn't want to. I waited and waited for you to come home Mummy.'

'I'm here now sweetheart.'

'I thought you were gone forever and ever… like … like…'

Michaela's words dissolved into heavy sobs but Nina knew what her daughter had been trying to say.

'Like Daddy?'

The little girl nodded.

'Listen to me Michaela, I will never, ever leave you. Do you understand?'

Another nod.

'I will never do what Daddy did.'

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

Nina scooped her daughter up and carried her up the stairs. Michael was almost too big now but Nina didn't want to think that the time was coming when she could no longer carry her to bed or heal her troubles with a hug and a kiss.

Nina didn't go to bed that night, choosing instead to sit with her children, wedging herself between the narrow beds to watch while they slept. These moments were precious. She realised that now. Two hours passed before she finally moved. Nina stretched her aching body and moved quietly from the room. A shower and a change of clothes could wait. What she really wanted now was coffee.

She picked up the mail from the mat, automatically flicking through the mass of bills and flyers. She stopped short when she found the postcard. It was beautiful; blindingly blue water, white-yellow sand, a wave in mid crash against a rock. Paradise. Curious, Nina flipped it over. The postmark was Paris but the picture didn't look like any part of France she'd ever seen.

The handwriting was familiar. Worryingly neat. Every i dotted and t crossed.

_'Dear Nina…_'

Shit. Nina wanted to rip the postcard into a hundred tiny pieces. Eight months of nothing and now this.

_'I haven't seen Rick. I don't know where he is and if I did I'm not sure that I would tell you. You're probably missing him but there's something you need to know. He slept with someone when we were in Majorca. I'm sorry, Nina, you were right about him.'_

'Tell me something I don't know,' she whispered to herself as she tossed the card into the bin. It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. She made coffee, strong, black. It tasted foul.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs, adult, not the fairy like tread of her children. Nina turned to face her mother's ire,

'Out all night! At your age!'

Ignoring her mother, Nina picked the postcard out of the bin, scraped off the potato peelings and stuck it on the fridge; almost hidden amongst the drawings, paintings and gold stars.

'Coffee?' she offered.


End file.
